


To catch a spy

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Dubious Consent, F/F, Non-Consensual Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 14:46:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1945146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s just a game, Leijon,” she says, brushing her hair over her shoulder.  “I’m going to show you Mindfang’s more sensitive side. It’ll be more fun for both of us if you get in character.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	To catch a spy

You hum to yourself as you crawl down another vent, marking your path with a piece of chalk Terezi let you borrow.  You love to stalk around the meteor during the group’s quieter moments, finding the most craftily hidden treasure chests tucked away down the darkest undiscovered hallways. It’s like your own personal treasure hunt.  You don’t have anything to put in the chests anymore and you’re not really interested in taking other people’s stuff, but it’s a nice way to pass time when nobody wants to roleplay with you.

The vent comes to a T, with a patch of crosshatched light streaming in from the right.  You pause to examine the room beyond the grate. Piles of broken Magic 8 balls litter the floor, and thin strands of spider web hang from the walls. It’s clearly Vriska’s respiteblock.  You feel your gut sink.  You don’t like to trespass on sections of the meteor that other people have claimed, and Vriska has always made your fur stand on end.  You don’t want to be caught peaking into her respiteblock. You’re about to turn away when you hear a soft chuckle from below you.  To your alarm, Vriska is sitting at her desk just below the grate, drawing something.  Whatever she’s drawing is apparently amusing to her.  She has her chin propped up on her hand and a small smile on her mouth, and you can see her lips move to whisper something to herself as she picks up a crayon.

According to ancient wisdom, curiosity killed the meowbeast, and you would heed the old adage’s warning if you were smart.  But you’re not. You’ve never seen any of Vriska’s drawings, and you wonder what could be causing her so much glee. Biting your lip, you resist the urge to peek, but you can’t.  You press your face to the grate and strain your eyes to get a better look. She’s definitely drawing a picture of herself, and is that Tavros?  Is that...Bec Noir?

With a loud clang, the grate falls outwards, and you squawk as you tumble into the room, barely sticking a landing right on top of Vriska’s drawing.  You jump away quickly, hands up.  “Sorry!  I’m sorry!” you say. Vriska looks at you with wide eyes that slowly relax.  A smirk grows on her lips.

“Well, well! What’s this?  A spy?” she says, standing up.  Her smirk always seems so devious to you.

“I was just purrlaying in the vents!” you explain, taking a step back.  “I didn’t know this was your respiteblock, or I would nefur have peeked!”

She crosses her arms and circles around you, her smirk growing wider.  “Do you know what the Marquise Spinneret Mindfang does with stowaways, kitten?” she asks.  “Especially when she’s in the middle of some _very_ important strategic planning!”

Is she roleplaying with you? Is that a good sign? You lift your hands a little higher and say, “Nepeta is furry sorry about interrupting Mindfang’s impurrtant strategic planning, and she would like to apawlogize profusely for traspawsing!”

“Do you know what happens to spies on this ship?” she asks as she slips behind you.  A shiver shoots up your back as she runs her claws across your throat.

“Nefurmind, I don’t want to roleplay with Mindfang,” you say, scrambling away.  “You’re always so mean when you purrlay as her!”

“Oh, come on,” Vriska says, rolling her eyes.  “Are you _really_ going to tumble into my respiteblock unannounced and tell me who and how to roleplay? I could be a huge bitch about it, but I thought we could turn this into something fun.  Don’t you want to have fun?  Or would you rather I be a huge bitch?”

“Uh...” you say. What an interesting proposition, coming from Vriska.  It sounds fishy to you.  Catfishy. “You actually want to play with me?”

“When have I ever refused to roleplay with you?” she asks.  “You’re the one who’s always complaining about what I do. Complaining and fussing and whining. We could have a good time, but you’re always trying to police the roleplay!”

Is that...true? “Do I?”

“Yes!  It’s so boring.  But now I’m giving you a chance to redeem yourself. Nobody’s given me the time of day since we arrived on this stupid meteor.  Fussyfang’s been ignoring me for no reason at all, Pupa’s always avoiding me on Prospit, Pyrope _still_ won’t play anything with me because of all that stuff that happened before the game, Eridan is just _Eridan_ , and your sweaty moirail is a bore.  Why don’t you give me a chance?  You’re the one who fell into my territory, after all.”

You fidget with your coat while you consider her position.  You can see how that would be boring, but you also know _why_ everyone treats her the way they do.  You bite your lip.  “But when you play as Mindfang, you only efur do terrible things.”

“Mindfang can be nice,” she says.  The way her smirk flashes in her eyes makes your hair bristle.  “She can be gentle.  She would _never_ hurt one of her prisoners.  Do you want me to show you?”

“Prisoners?” you repeat.

“You’re the one who stumbled into my web, aren’t you?” she asks.  “You’re the stowaway who’s been discovered.  That makes you my prisoner, kitten. The prisoner of Marquise Mindfang.”

A nearly inaudible gasp escapes your mouth as your body seizes, completely out of your control. When you try to step away, your legs react clumsily, as though they’re pulling against strings that would rather they stay in place.  You glance up at Vriska.  “What are you doing?” you ask.

“It’s just a game, Leijon,” she says, brushing her hair over her shoulder.  “I’m going to show you Mindfang’s more sensitive side. It’ll be more fun for both of us if you get in character.”

She holds you in place as she returns to her desk and sits, adopting a posture of charming disinterest, looking for a moment like the pirate queen she’s pretending to be. To your horror, you shrug off your overcoat without any desire to do so.  She smiles as you look at her, apparently reading uncertainty and not a little fear in your eyes.  Your legs walk you forward without your consent, and you kneel in front of her.

“Who are you, prisoner?” she asks, removing your hat and running her fingers through a strand of your hair.

“Um,” you say, shakily, almost surprised to find your voice working.  You know she wants you to respond in character, but you’re having trouble remembering details.  “I’m...a spy for the great naval Admiral, um, Pounce de Leon...”

“And why were you slinking through my ship, spy?  Did you find what you were looking for?”

“...No,” you say, glancing up at her.  Something about her hooded eyes and lazy smirk is making your skin crawl, but in a way you don’t entirely understand.  You don’t know what part of your body is still yours and what part belongs to her. You breath hitches as her hand runs down your face to tip your chin up.

“What are you willing to do to keep your admiral’s secrets?” she asks, leaning forward.  “And how am I supposed to trust you when you say you’ve found none of mine?”

A loaded question. But she said she was going to be gentle...right?  She said she wouldn’t be mean.  “I’ll take his secrets to the grave,” you say, hoping it’s the answer she wants. “Nothing you do can purrsuade me to betray him.”

“Nothing, you say?” she asks. She chuckles, a low, dark sound that shudders through your body.  “Come here, and let’s see if I can’t persuade you.”

Your hands reach up to the chair and pull you up onto her lap, and your face burns with a blush as you straddle her thighs.  One of her hand rests casually on your hips as you get comfortable, and the other reaches out to cup your cheek.  “Vriska...?” you say as she slides her knuckles over your line of your jaw.

“You will address me only as the Marquise,” she says, and the hand on your hip moves to your ass.  She slides you a little closer.  “How foolish of you to let your emotions show so obviously on your face.  I don’t even have to guess your blood color.  But you are a cute little scout, aren’t you?”

You don’t even know what to say. Your face grows hotter as her hands move to the hemline of your shirt, her fingers dipping under the fabric to follow the waistline of your pants.  She feels cool against your skin.

“You do know that slavery will be the least of your worries from this point forward, don’t you?” she asks. She’s pushing your shirt up, and you don’t have the will to stop her.  She leans forward to press a deceitfully innocuous kiss against your sternum as she cups your rumble sphere.  Your pump biscuit beats faster, and your blood is beginning to carry a dark and hot venom through your body.  She looks up at you.  “It didn’t take much to tame you, did it?  Once I caught you in my little web.  Where are your claws?”

“You haven’t tam—ah!” You breath catches as her tongue runs along the smooth bump of your nipple.  You know she still has control of you, but you don’t know where she stops and you start.  You don’t know if the black waves of heat pulsing through you are hers or yours. You can feel the tightness of her pants beneath you, and you’re almost embarrassed to feel yourself press back. You vaguely notice that your fingers are catching on her hair as you hold her against you.

“We’ll see how you feel when I’m done with you,” she says with a quiet laugh, pulling away. She reaches up and pulls your down into a kiss.  Her hips move up into yours, and you ride against her, increasing the friction. You can feel her fumbling with the button on your jeans.

You close your eyes and, gathering the hot energy coursing through you, you force yourself to overpower the force subjugating your body.  It takes all your willpower to break away, but when you do, your claws are out and your fangs are bared.  You slash down into Vriska’s shoulder and leap away, grabbing your hat from the table as you spring towards your coat.  Only when you land do you notice how hard you’re panting.

“OW!  What the hell?” Vriska snaps, gripping her bleeding shoulder.  She turns to glare at you, and you return her glare as you pull your shirt down.

“If you think that’s _nice_ , it’s no wonder no one’s playing with you!” you say.  Your hackles are still raised as you slide into your coat.

“ _I’m_ not the one who drew blood!” she retorts.

“Don’t purrlay dumb,” you say. You straighten up and put your hat on.  “I won’t be tamed for your purrleasure!  My claws are still sharper than your fangs, Mindfang.  Remempurr that next time you try to catch me!”

Her smirk reappears as she examines your face.  “If I find you spying on me again, I’ll make sure not to underestimate you.”

“Yeah!” you say, backing towards the transportalizer in the corner of the room.  “So..just watch yourself!”

Your foot bumps against the transportalizer, and you step onto it.  In a flash, you’re out of her respiteblock and at the transportalizer hub in the center of the meteor.  You stomp off the platform and to the one that takes you to your own room.  In the privacy of your own respiteblock, you inhale and fall to your butt. Your pump biscuit is still beating wildly.  A blush spreads across your face as your mind flashes through what happened.  Vriska’s hands on your skin, the coolness of her mouth, the glint in her eyes as she smirks.  Black outrage explodes through you, and to your dismay, your pants tighten with your arousal.  You pull your hat down over your eyes.  You’ll never look at Vriska the same way again. But...maybe this way of looking at her isn’t so bad.  You bite your lip and exhale as you reach down to undo the button of your pants.

 


End file.
